And when you try to replace
a mountain with an anthill,
you know it’s wrong.
But you want it to be enough.
History repeats itself,
yet it is still so hard to
In an ocean of voices
we only get a trickle.
When the cycle restarts,
it hits as a whole,
but the only memory we have
is whatever water the survivors
manage to cough up.
and it must have felt less
than the way in which
I am taking us apart
When Rome collapsed,
it was sublime.
We are just tragic, and our time is up.
I remember when there were months we wouldn’t talk at all. I wouldn’t even miss you. Then we would eventually talk and of course, the love I felt for you glowed strong like the embers at the base of a campfire. There were times when I doubted. A lot. If i really loved you as much as I believed I did, should I not miss your absence every second?
I remember when there were hours when I would pine for him. I would have just seen him the other day but I would already want more. I would be there at any hour in any time frame. I felt for him like the tongues of a fire lap at the open air. I felt tired of holding my breath.
I remember when there would never be anyone I missed. They all became like you, external pieces of my being. Living and loving when my attention was away and doing just the same, but more brightly in my eyes, when my attention was present. Whole in themselves but parts of my life. Each part, the whole, and each whole, a part. I didn’t miss them, but I never stopped loving. I stopped caring if they were zero or thousands of kilometres away. I stopped caring if they talked to me everyday or never. Actions speak, but we should really be feeling for the truth.
When you never asked to be loved
and I only asked to be loved back
we have everything to work out
but no words will be said.
Loving someone unconditionally
and respecting yourself
can go hand-in-hand.
Sometimes, loving is leaving,
Loving is waiting it out and giving space,
being there, but not always so close.
Love is being there to catch someone
when they don’t know to reach out.
When they don’t think they can.
Loving is staying.
Not always in sight.
- I don’t know the original source/artist/poet. Found it on net and sharing.
Zach was supposed to tell me this was a sad post
…but he didn’t.
And of course he loved her.
And that was when the
what are you going to do about it
what are you going to tell your parents
what steps are you going to take
to further this—
And he will keep loving her.